The Lightning Strike
by Jack E. Peace
Summary: I want to see you as you are now every single day that I am living. Painted in flames, all peeling thunder. Be the lightning in me that strikes relentless. Three segments of Aaron and Marta's life together.
1. i What If This Storm Ends

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Title and inspiration come from the song "The Lightning Strike" by Snow Patrol

**A/N: **So I just couldn't stay away. I had to try my hand on at least one more story for this wonderful pairing. This story will be three parts. My recommendation is to find the song "The Lightning Strike" and listen to it in conjunction with this story. It's a three part song and each part connects with each part of this story. Not only is it a completely amazing song but it will probably make reading this story better. Thanks to everyone who reviewed my first story and I hope you enjoy this one!

(i) _What If This Storm Ends_

When Aaron finally drifts off to sleep, it's a relief, not just for Aaron but for Marta as well. She needs time to process his words in silence, to mull over the things he's said to her without worrying about what he's going to say next. She knows it's just the fever talking, that he wouldn't be so open with his thoughts and feelings if his body wasn't trying to survive. She knows that he's been trained better than that.

But that doesn't make it any easier to stop thinking about the things he's said. Marta goes to stand by the window overlooking a crowded alley full of trash and God only knows what else. Her eyes keep darting toward the jacket Aaron mentioned earlier, the one now carelessly tossed onto the ground along with the grey pullover she's been wearing. It's far too hot for that now. Marta hopes that taking in the view outside the window will give herself something to focus on other than the jacket.

Aaron's words and what she now knows is hidden in the jacket have now become the elephant in the room. Marta knows it would be easy, so easy. She could take the money, the passports, try and start over. She's gotten a picture of how her life is going to be from now on and it terrifies her. She can't stand the idea of people out there trying to kill her, hunting her down like an animal, desperate to put a bullet in her skull. She's worried the weight of it will drive her crazy. Aaron has offered her an escape, a way out, the chance to live a life she's always wanted. She could take the money and live on some beach somewhere, immerse herself in paradise. Her hands itch with the desire to rip open the lining of the jacket and Marta curls her fingers into fists in an attempt to fight down the urge.

Marta wonders if Aaron expects her to take the money and run. The look in his eyes was begging her to do just that. To leave him in this wretched hotel room in Manila and walk away from it all. He might have known of her for four years but he's really only known her for a few days. His faith in her abilities is startling. He certainly doesn't see her for the coward she is. That's probably a result of the fever.

Marta spins away from the window and grabs up the jacket. She can't feel anything out of the ordinary, which is the point. No one but Aaron would know what lies in the lining. Her hands shake as she holds the garment in her hands. Her eyes shift to Aaron, still sleeping fitfully. She wonders what he's dreaming of.

Quickly, Marta tosses the jacket aside. She might be a coward but that doesn't mean that she has to act like one. _You're a warrior_. No, she's a scientist. She's the one who made Aaron into the person he his now, she manipulated him with her desire to truly understand the human genome and to see what happened when you added A to B. How can she possibly leave him now?

Marta moves to Aaron's side, gently resting her hand against his forehead. He's still hot and sweaty, lost in the grips of a fever. He could die, she knows. Suddenly, that idea of being alone, without him, petrifies her. How could she possibly consider leaving?

Marta picks up the last of the water bottles she purchased from a kiosk on the street and wets the washcloth once more. She presses the cloth against his forehead, cheeks, neck and chest. Aaron shudders and mumbles something in his sleep but he doesn't wake. Marta is trying to remember everything from her childhood, the way that her mother and father cared for her and her sister when they had a cold or the flu. This is not the type of doctor she sought out to be. Unfortunately, they're lacking many of the things she remembers from her childhood illnesses, including chicken soup, Disney movies and a cat named Bobo, who always curled up at her feet. All Aaron has is her.

Marta pulls the rickety wooden chair over to the side of the bed and sits down as gently as possible; it hardly looks stable. She's exhausted and overwhelmed but knows it will be impossible to sleep now. She hasn't really slept since…since Dr. Foite became one of their puppets and shot everyone she'd been working with for years. It seems almost hard to believe that she's been existing on adrenaline and powernaps. Though, she figures running for your life makes you the opposite of tired.

Aaron starts mumbling again and Marta ignores her internal mullings to give him her full attention. Aaron's eyes flutter open and he looks confused, disoriented and painfully child-like, like a little boy afraid of the dark and the monsters under his bed. Without thinking, Marta reaches for his hand. He squeezes her hand with a strength and desperation that catches her by surprise.

Before she can convince him to remain where he is, Aaron is sitting up, holding tightly to her hands, like he's afraid to let go of her. "I'm sorry." He breathes out, his eyes round and watery. Marta just looks back at him, unsure of how to respond. She's not sure what he's apologizing for or why he thinks anything that's been happening is his fault. If it wasn't for him, she would have been dead back in that horrible house in Maryland. "I'm sorry." Aaron says more urgently, clearly not pleased with her silence.

Marta offers him a weak smile. "It's-"

But he doesn't let her finish. "I was stupid I…" Aaron closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Ms. Monroe…I…"

Marta blinks, surprised. It's the fever, she knows, but it's still startling. Aaron doesn't know where he is or who he's talking to. He's looking at her and seeing someone else entirely.

"Aaron, I'm not…It's Marta." She gives his hand a squeeze, hoping to bring him back to the present, at least a little.

But it's like he doesn't hear her. "I never should have gotten behind the wheel." Aaron continues on and Marta can see the tears in his eyes and it's breaking her heart and she's desperate to end this conversation, not for his sake but for hers. She doesn't know how much she can take. "I'm so sorry." Aaron bows his head and presses Marta's hands against his face and lips and she can feel tears fall onto her skin.

"Aaron, it's okay." Marta's voice threatens to get stuck in her throat but she forces the words out, hoping to pull him from this fever dream. "You're dreaming."

"You were the only one who believed in me. You were the only one who said I could do better." Aaron presses on, lifting his head so their eyes meet. Marta swallows, feeling a lump in her throat, like she can somehow understand and share in this personal tragedy of his. "And I let you down."

Marta isn't sure what prompts her to respond, "No, no you didn't," but it seems like a good idea at the time. Especially when Aaron looks at her with his eyes so full of sadness, begging for some sort of understanding. Marta rests her palm against his cheek. "You didn't let me down."

Aaron closes his eyes again and tears drop onto his cheeks. "Ms. Monroe…you told me I could do better. But I didn't do better." He shakes his head. "I didn't do better."

"Yes, you did." Marta assures him and Aaron gives her a dubious look. "You joined the army. You're a hero." That word seems to catch Aaron by surprise and Marta can see his eyes brighten slightly. "I…" She swallows down that lump again. "I'm proud of you. Kenneth."

Aaron pulls her into a hug and even though the action surprises Marta, she doesn't try to fight him. She can feel his skin, hot and feverish against her own. She prays this is the lowest point, the moment before his fever breaks and he comes out of the woods. She can't consider the alternative.

"I'm so sorry." Aaron whispers against her hair. "I never meant to…I…."

Marta strokes his hair and the back of his neck. "I know. Shh…it's okay." The skin on her shoulders is wet from the few tears Aaron has cried. It just makes her pull him closer to her. She wants to be stronger for him, she desperately wants to be stronger for herself to relieve him of some of the burden of taking care of her.

They stay like that for a few moments longer and despite the insufferable heat of the room and Aaron's body against hers, Marta does not want to pull away. But she can feel Aaron's grip on her start to loosen, she can feel his body start to tremble from the shivers brought on by the fever. She gently moves away from him. His eyes are dull and unfocused and when he looks at her, Marta can tell he's not seeing her or June or anyone.

"Lay back." Marta says gently, guiding him back toward his sweat soaked pillow. She wishes she had a fresh pillow or even sheets for him, but she can't even give him that. He lays on a mattress that has seen God only knows how many years of use.

Aaron doesn't fight her, he's shivering too hard to really put up much of a struggle. Marta gets up and picks up the jacket she tossed aside earlier, laying it across his chest in lieu of a proper blanket. Aaron shrugs it off immediately despite his chills. He grabs her hand as she moves to pick the jacket back up. "Doc," He seems to forget what it is he wants to say next.

Marta gives him a soft smile and caresses his cheek with her free hand. "Shh, you need to rest." She says gently. "You'll never get better if you don't rest." She's still praying that he gets better at all. If he dies from this, Marta thinks she'll just sit in this room until the program finds her and finishes what Dr. Foite started.

Aaron smiles at her faintly, squeezing her hand. "Stay." His voice is soft, but Marta can still hear that one word. Is he second-guessing his previous instructions for her to take the money and run? Marta knows that he would never be selfish enough to ask that of her if he was thinking clearly. But she doesn't care if it's the fever talking or not. Somehow, that singular word is all the fortification that she needs.

"Of course." Marta whispers but Aaron is already asleep. It's as though her presence was what he needed to finally succumb to sleep.

Marta stands there for a moment, watching as his features start to relax and his shivering starts to subside. She tries to pull her hand from his but even in sleep his grip is unnaturally strong. Instead of trying to fight him, she slips into bed beside him, curling up so she's not hanging off the mattress. She feels a little foolish as she tucks herself against Aaron but he doesn't seem to mind her presence so she's not going to dwell on it.

It's only now that Marta is finally able to drift off to sleep, holding Aaron's hand in hers like a security blanket. In this dingy room in the middle of the city, she finally feels safe.

**Now it's found us****, l****ike I have found you/I don't want to run/****Just overwhelm me. **


	2. ii The Sunlight Through the Flags

_**A/N:**_ I can't thank you guys enough for your kind reviews! I'm so glad that everyone liked the first part and I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. As always, I recommend listening to the song "The Lightning Strike" (by Snow Patrol) while reading this chapter, particularly the second section because they go along together. Hopefully the song will make reading this little story even better. Thanks again for your kind words! And this chapter is for retwin, who is bored at work :) _  
_

_(ii.) The Sunlight Through the Flags _

The fluorescent lights overhead are blinding and Marta squints as she opens her eyes, disoriented and momentarily blinded. She turns her head away and finds herself staring at stark white walls. There's not even a window to give her a glimpse of the outside world or provide her with any hint as to where she is. The only thing she knows for sure is that she's laying in a bed, surrounded by a sea of white. Her wrists are being held down at her sides by padded leather cuffs. Marta looks at her wrists; how very _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_. That comparison does not make Marta feel better.

She tries to sit up but of course she's kept in place, forced to play Sleeping Beauty. Marta pulls against her restraints, pulling on the cuffs and rattling the buckles in hopes of causing a ruckus and bringing someone into whatever room she's been sequestered too. She might not remember how she got here but she knows this isn't right. She's not supposed to be here. Marta calls up her last memory: watching the sun set over the middle of the ocean while on a fishing boat heading for destinations unknown to her. She remembers the warm body standing beside her, the safety of his presence.

That can't be right. How can that be her last memory? How can she have gone from standing on the deck of a fishing boat to being restrained to a bed in a white room? Clearly, she's missing something.

All her struggling has finally drawn some attention. The white door in front of Marta's bed opens and an unfamiliar bespectacled man steps into the room. He's short, a little round and his face looks kind, though Marta automatically doesn't trust him. She doesn't feel like she's in a very trusting position.

The man is carrying a clipboard and wearing a white lab coat, buttoned across his front. Marta can see a lamented ID badge clipped to his pocket but she can't read his name from where she lays. He gives her a smile as he steps up to her bedside.

"Dr. Shearing," he says warmly, "how are we feeling?" He rests a hand over her cuffed wrist, trying to still her struggling.

Marta glares at him. "Where am I?" She snaps out. "Who are you?"

The look he gives her now is kindness mixed with a hint of exasperation, the sort of look you'd give to a child who's asked you for the fiftieth time why the sky is blue. Like they've had this conversation before.

"You know me, Marta." He reminds her gently. "It's Dr. Christensen. You're in Lakeview."

Marta's brow knits. "Lakeview." She repeats. The name sounds familiar on her tongue but she can't quite place it. "How did I get here?"

Dr. Christensen writes something down on the clipboard in his hands and for some reason that annoys Marta. It's okay when _she's _the one making notes and observations but she is not the lab rat.

"Marta, perhaps you should go see Dr. Rivers." The man suggests. "He prefers to be the one to answer those types of questions."

Marta narrows her eyes at him. "I'm asking _you_." She snarls. There's a pause and neither of them says anything. "Where's Aaron?" She questions, suddenly feeling desperate to know. She can't believe she hasn't asked this before. "I want to see Aaron."

Dr. Christensen sighs and makes another note on his clipboard. "Marta, I really recommend talking about this with Dr. Rivers. You know he's -"

"Where's Aaron!" Marta doesn't care that she's shouting and probably looks crazy jerking against her wrist restraints like they're actually going to give way. "Where is he?" She looks at Dr. Christensen, eyes burning. If someone has hurt Aaron they'll have to deal with her. She might be small but she's feisty and very, very angry right now.

Dr. Christensen pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Dr. Shearing, we've talked about this before. There is no Aaron." He says this gently, patiently. Again, like they've had this conversation many times before. "He's just a figment of your imagination, a creation to help you deal with stress."

Marta gapes at him. She doesn't even bother to hide her surprise. "Are you fucking crazy." She shakes her head. "He's not a _figment of my imagination_. How can you even say that?" She can sense her voice rising, bordering on hysterical. Again, she doesn't care.

"It's a perfectly normal response, giving the amount of trauma you experienced." Dr. Christensen assures her. "The massacre at the lab…watching Dr. Foite kill your colleagues. No one thinks any less of you for conjuring up these fantasies. That's why you're here," he says gently, "so you can rest, relax. The sooner you let go of this Aaron fantasy, the sooner you can leave here. Get back to your work. Don't you want that, Dr. Shearing?"

This man isn't making any sense. What does Dr. Foite have to do with any of this? Of course it was traumatic to watch all her friends get killed, who could possibly think it wasn't? But what does that…suddenly Marta knows where she's heard the name Lakeview before. It's the mental institution south of the lab where she worked, a place only referred to in passing, a place she never thought would have any connection to her.

Marta is still staring at him, eyes wide. "A fantasy?" She repeats. "Aaron is not a fantasy! People are trying to kill us. What are you talking about?" She starts pulling at her restraints once more. She has to get out of this place. She has to find Aaron. Now.

Dr. Christensen sighs and shakes his head. "I'm going to send Kellie in with something to calm you down, okay Marta." He gives her a tight smile. "That will make you feel better."

"No!" Marta calls after him, watching helplessly as he leaves the room. "I'm not crazy. Aaron!" She's desperate for him to show up now, her knight in shining armor, to save her from this new hell.

Marta wakes up with Aaron's name on her lips, her throat sore from shouting for him. She jerks upright, her hands still clawing at invisible restraints. She's not in a hospital. She's not tied to a bed. She's on the floor, covered by a thin sheet, tucked in the sleeping quarters of a fishing trawler. She can feel the gentle rocking of the waves, can hear the sound of the boat as it moves through the water. She can also hear the pounding of her heart and her skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Marta closes her eyes and scrubs her hands across her face. It was only a dream. A nightmare. It felt so real, everything about it was real. Thankfully, her subconscious was just dreaming in high def.

Opening her eyes, Marta looks to her left. Instead of seeing Aaron there, her eyes fall on an empty sleeping pallet. His absence shouldn't surprise her; he never would have gone that long without responding to her shouting his name, even if she was just yelling for him in her sleep. She feels a tightness in her chest, panic at his absence. He's never left her alone. Where is he?

Marta gets to her feet and leaves their room. She has to fight down the urge to go tearing through the ship screaming for him. She doesn't want to wake the fisherman and his sons or call unnecessary attention to herself or Aaron. She can tell the fisherman is already skeptical of the two of them and staying in his good graces is the only thing keeping them on the boat. She highly doubts he'll appreciate the wake-up call.

When Marta makes it onto the deck, she doesn't stop to appreciate the gentle breeze or admire the full moon shining in the sky. She doesn't stop to think about how she's never seen so many stars before. All she cares about is finding Aaron.

He's standing by the railing, staring toward the horizon, his mind occupied with countless thoughts. Marta reaches for him just as he realizes that she's there and he whirls around to face her, on the offense. He grabs her wrist in mid-reach and his grip is painful but Marta can hardly bring herself to care. He is not a figment of her imagination. He is real.

Quickly, Aaron releases her wrist, eyes softening. "I'm sorry." He says quickly, searching her face for some hint of fear. Fear of him. He doesn't like the look on her face. "What's the matter?"

Marta doesn't know what to say. She suddenly feels foolish. "I…I had a nightmare. And…you were gone…" She's not a child, why did she feel the need to run to him?

But Aaron doesn't seem to think she's being ridiculous. He actually looks guilty about not being there when she needed him. "It's okay." He says softly. "It was only a dream. It can't hurt you."

That's only a small comfort. There are so many things that _can_ hurt her. Though, apparently when her subconscious gets free range, the only thing she dreams of is losing him. She's starting to think that might hurt the most.

Marta closes her eyes and tries to block out the memories of her nightmare. It still feels too real; she can still feel the restraints on her wrists. She can still hear the doctor telling her that Aaron doesn't exist. When she opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is Aaron.

"I dreamt…they said…" Marta doesn't know why the words are trapped in her throat. She's never been one to lose her voice, even when she's emotional. That was one of the things Peter Boyd hated about her: her ability to be completely coherent in the middle of a screaming match, not giving him the chance to get a word in edgewise. "They said you were gone."

Aaron slowly reaches for her hand, twining their fingers together. After a pause, he pulls her to him, still moving slowly, like he wants to make sure that is okay. Marta doesn't resist his embrace. "I'm here Doc." He assures her, smiling to himself as she rests her head against his chest. He likes the way it feels to hold her against him like this. "You're not going to lose me."

The past few days have been a whirlwind. They've felt like a dream or like the impossible plot to a made for TV movie she never would have watched. But this moment feels real. Aaron is real. And Marta is finally starting to feel real too.

**Why don't you rest your fragile bones/A minute ago you looked alone/Stop waving your arms, you're safe and dry/****Breathe in and drink up the winter sky. **


	3. iii Daylight

__**A/N:** Thanks again for the reviews, you guys are amazing! It means a lot that you've all enjoyed this story so much. Thanks again!

_(iii.) Daylight _

Aaron awakes to the sound of Marta singing quietly to herself. This is a totally new experience for him so he pretends to be asleep for a little while longer in order to listen to her voice. Marta is clearly someone who's never had voice lessons and probably never sang past a third grade pageant but he likes listening to her all the same. It's endearing and innocent. Plus, he now knows that she's a Beatles fan.

Aaron cracks one eye open, trying not to stir and interrupt her. She's standing with her back to him in front of the mirror above the sink, which is visible from any point in their small rented room. She's in a robe, combing out her damp hair. Aaron's surprised; he didn't hear the shower running and the smell of her floral shampoo didn't entice him the way it usually does. For some reason, the little slip bothers him more than it probably should.

Marta sees him watching her in the mirror and stops singing, a blush spreading across her cheeks and neck. "Sorry. I hope I didn't wake you."

Now that the jig is up, Aaron sits up, a little disappointed that the concert is over. "It was nice." He assures her. As he sits up, his head starts to spin and he feels completely disoriented. The room feels like it's tilting on an axis, ready to dump him onto the floor. He hasn't felt like this since he was viraling out in Manila. It was only two months ago, but it feels like a life time.

"You're a good liar, Aaron Cross." Marta remarks with a smirk. She pauses, brow knitting. "Are you all right?" She comes over to stand beside him, her concern evident.

Aaron figures he must look as bad as he feels to cause the look of worry he's seeing on Marta's face. He blinks, trying to force the room back into focus. Thankfully, he's no longer seeing three Marta's kneeling in front of him. "I'm fine." He assures her with a weak smile. "I must have just sat up too fast."

Marta doesn't look convinced. She studies his eyes, which seem to have a hard time focusing and don't seem as bright as usual. She presses her palm to his forehead, surprised to find his skin hot. "Are you feeling sick?" She questions. "You feel like you have a fever."

Aaron shakes his head, even though that's a lie and it just makes everything go topsy-turvy again. He hopes he doesn't throw up, even though that feels like a dangerous possibility. "I'm fine." He murmurs again.

Marta narrows her eyes at him. "You don't have to lie to me, Aaron." She chides. "You need to be honest, so I can help you." She can tell something's not right with him. She feels like she's back in Manila, watching him get sicker and sicker from the viruses she injected into his body.

For some reason, he has hard time processing Marta's question. Did he lie to her? What did he say? He feels hot all over, his skin feeling too tight for his bones underneath. When did that happen?

"You need to lie down." Marta instructs, gently guiding him back toward the pillow. "I'm going to get you some water."

Aaron doesn't protest, he just pulls the covers back around his body. Suddenly, he's so cold he can barely stand it. His time in the mountains doesn't seem to come close to how chilled he feels now. At least there aren't any wolves. He thinks.

As Marta fills up one of the glasses provided by the hotel and tries to think back to the night before. Aaron seemed perfectly normal; he laughed and joked and teased her just like he always did. And when she laid down beside him to go to sleep he didn't feel hot and she doesn't remember him tossing and turning. It's like it just hit him all at once.

Marta drags a chair over to the side of the bed and sits down, helping Aaron sit up just enough to allow him to take a few sips of water. "When did you start feeling sick?"

"When?" Aaron repeats. He feels like his head is stuffed with cotton, making it hard to hear her and focus. He does not like feeling like this, like his head weighs a million pounds and nothing makes sense. It's too close to how things used to be before. "Just now." He answers when Marta nods.

Marta bites her nails, a nervous habit she hasn't indulged in since she was in high school. "I wonder if it was something you ate." She says this almost to herself. She can rule that out right away, they both ate from the same plate last night and she feels fine. "Maybe you picked something up while we were traveling. Airports are breeding grounds for sickness." She knows she's rambling but she can't seem to stop herself from talking. Another nervous habit.

"Maybe it's not working." Aaron mumbles. He's starting to feel worse with each passing second, like somehow talking about his sickness is making him sick.

Marta's brow knits. "What?"

"The virus. Manila." He suddenly feels very tired. He hopes Marta's okay playing Nancy Drew by herself because he might have to sit this one out.

Quickly, Marta shakes her head. "No, that's not-" But then she pauses and feels her chest tighten. She remembers a colleague telling her about a program participant that didn't viral out correctly. Everything seemed find for the first several weeks and then all of the sudden the man started to become sick and disoriented, weak and hardly up to his usual standards. He recovered but he was never the same, like he'd never been trained or viraled out at all. He was the first participant to leave the program.

Aaron forces his eyes to open, finding her face. "It's happened before." It's not a question.

Marta swallows and gives him a weak smile. "That's probably not even what this is." She doesn't know who she's trying to reassure. "People get sick all the time. You just need to rest."

"What if it is, Doc." Aaron is apparently a pragmatist all of the sudden.

Marta gets to her feet, feeling incapable of sitting still any longer. "Well…you can't go to a hospital, so there's not point in even entertaining that thought. I can try and get some medicine, you need fluids." She paces back and forth as she speaks. But she knows she's avoiding Aaron's real question. "I…I'm not sure there's anything we can do."

Aaron had a feeling that was going to be the case. "What happened to the other guy?" He's not sure how much longer he can force her eyelids to stay open or his brain to stay alert, so he hopes she talks fast.

Marta stops pacing and looks at Aaron. His skin is pale and flushed. She doesn't know how this is happening, how things have turned to shit so quickly and spectacularly. She can't believe this could be how it all ends. They've dodged every bullet sent their way for the past two months, they've been moving from country to country, one step ahead of those hunting them. This is not fair. They don't deserve this.

"It would be like if you never viraled out at all." Marta responds finally. "Like if you stopped taking the chems and just let nature take it's course." She kneels beside the bed once more, reaching out to take his hand. "We'll think of something Aaron. I promise."

Aaron squeezes her hand as tightly as he can muster. "Don't worry Doc. You're strong. You know how to survive now. You can make it without me. You don't need me anymore." He assures her, hoping to stem her worries. He doesn't want to leave her but she's a warrior, she'll be fine.

Marta looks at him for a moment, her face a picture of confusion. She slowly pulls her hand from his and gets to her feet. "You think I'm worried about myself." She says softly. "You honestly think I'm that selfish." Her voice is barely above a whisper, like she understands the ridiculousness of getting into a fight with him now.

She goes over to the sink, wets a wash cloth and brings it back to him. Marta lays the cloth across his forehead and Aaron closes his eyes as the blessed cold soothes his hot skin.

"I'm going to get some medicine." Marta informs him. "I'll hurry."

Aaron doesn't have the energy to protest her departure or ask her to stay. Before he even hears the sound of the door shutting, he's drifted off to sleep.

He's not sure when he's awake or when he's asleep, what's real and what's just something his addled mind has conjured up. He dreams of being back in the Sandbox, of watching his friends blown up or shot. He dreams of Marta. He dreams of joining Outcome. Of the training, the sacrifices. He sees Marta in memories she shouldn't be a part of, places where she doesn't belong. He's not sure if the Marta who is taking care of him is real or just part of his imagination. She might have been a dream this whole time, someone he made up to make life a little better for himself. He dreams about the wolf pack from the mountains, hunting him, tracking Marta, separating them in the forest. He can hear her screams. He also dreams about June Monroe, his senior year English teacher. She was the only person who never seemed to think he was stupid, who encouraged him when he struggled and when he actually managed to turn in a homework assignment. He thinks of the last time he saw her, the night he'd stolen a handle of Jack Daniels form a local liquor store with some of the guys from the state home. They'd "borrowed" their keeper's car and a drunken rock-paper-scissors game appointed Aaron the one who had to get them all back to the home. He doesn't remember much else past that point, just the horrifying realization that they'd hit someone and the devastating knowledge that he was responsible for the death of the only person who didn't think he was a waste of space. His subconscious replays that moment over and over again, as well as a moment that never happened: Ms. Monroe forgiving him for what he had done that night. But it's not his teacher's voice he hears but Marta's. Sometimes it is Marta and he's back in that room in Manila, apologizing for his past sins. It all blends together in a maddening tableau until Aaron wants it all to stop. Blackness would be a relief. He's not even sure who he is anymore.

And then it's like everything makes sense again. When Aaron opens his eyes, he sees the hotel room he remembers checking into the first night they got to Berlin. Marta is asleep sitting up in the chair positioned next to the bed. There's a washcloth in one hand and a water bottle in the other and Aaron has no idea how she's actually managed to fall asleep in this position but the sight of her makes him smile. It also feels him with an extreme sense of relief: he didn't dream her after all.

Aaron sits up slowly, not wanting a repeat of the last time he moved. However long ago that was. He has no idea how long he's been sick, how long they've been staying in this hotel room. It's disorienting to feel so helpless. At least his body doesn't seem to be betraying him anymore. He doesn't feel sick and he doesn't feel like his brain is going to start leaking out of his ears. He feels normal…as normal as someone can be after spending an inordinate amount of time in bed.

For a moment, Aaron debates waking Marta. She looks exhausted, even in the middle of sleep. He owes so much to her; she saves his life every day, sometimes more literally than others.

He's suddenly struck by a memory of a conversation he's almost sure they had. The memories before he slipped into the chasm of his illness stick out with more clarity than the things his addled mind dreamt up. _You think I'm worried about myself. You honestly think I'm that selfish. _Aaron can hear Marta clearly, clearer than he had when she'd actually spoken those words. The barely concealed hurt in her voice.

Of course her concern hadn't been for herself. She hadn't been worried that he wouldn't be there to take care of her anymore. She'd been worried that he wouldn't be there at all. Aaron feels like an ass for implying otherwise. Even after he'd been mentally enhanced by the program, he hadn't been the most sensitive guy. Emotional nuances still have the tendency to escape him.

Aaron slowly slides out of bed, kneeling in front of Marta and kissing her forehead softly. Her eyes flutter open and he can see her slowly coming awake. She stiffens a yawn and sits up a little straighter in the chair. "You need to be resting." She says this almost on autopilot. "How are you feeling?"

Aaron sits down on the edge of the bed, their knees just barely brushing together. "Much better Doc." When he smiles, it's not a forced gesture. "Thanks to you."

Marta smiles slightly. "I'm glad you're all right."

She gets to her feet and moves toward the bathroom, tossing the wash cloth into the sink and setting the empty water bottle on the counter. Aaron follows her, coming to stand behind her, closer than he ever has in their waking moments. Marta meets his gaze in the mirror but doesn't turn around to face him.

"I don't think you're selfish." Aaron says softly, recalling her words from his hazy memory. "You're pretty much the most unselfish person I know." Marta looks like she wants to say something but can't quite find the words. Which is just fine with Aaron, because he's not done yet. "I meant what I said earlier, about you not needing me anymore."

Aaron can feel Marta tense, worry and doubt flickering in her eyes. She turns to face him. "Aaron-"

"I'm sorry Marta." Aaron interrupts her.

She looks at him, uncomprehending. What could he possibly be apologizing for? Unless this really is how it all ends, how they finally part ways. Not with a bang but with a whimper.

"I can't be like you," Aaron continues, unaware of her private thoughts, "I'm not unselfish. I can't be without you."

Marta can't keep herself from scoffing at his words. "You don't need me." She wishes it was different but she can't argue with facts. She's been a liability from day one, someone for him to watch over and protect. What use she had is long gone.

Aaron reaches for her hands almost without thinking about it. He's never been one for heart-to-heart conversations. In his life, they've been unnecessary. He wishes that he could just make Marta understand everything he feels about her, that he could thread their hands together and she would just know.

"I do need you. I'm sorry I let you go on thinking I didn't for so long." Aaron swallows, forcing himself to look into her eyes. He never wants to look away from her. "Without you, I wouldn't have survived." Marta opens her mouth but he interrupts, sensing where her mind is going. "That's not what I mean. You…you thought I was saving you. But really…you saved me."

Marta leans in and kisses him and Aaron feels his heart speed up and slow down all at once, an unfamiliar feeling of calm spreading through his body. He pulls her to him, desperate to feel her weight against him. He needs to feel the realness of her.

The program has taken a lot from him. His identity, his life, his freedom. But it has given him this moment. And hopefully many moments after this one. Maybe he's biased, but Aaron thinks he can live with that.

**Something was bound to go right sometime today****/****All these broken pieces fit together to make a perfect picture of us****/****It got cold and then dark so suddenly and rained****/****It rained so hard the two of us were the only thing ****that we could see for miles and miles**


End file.
